replacements

[zefrank]

here's an excerpt from Smoke, by Chris Avellone

you may replace, add to, or delete any part of it...a word, words, a sentence, but the first and last words should remain untouched and don't add anything to the front or back...


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It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle)
was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking
it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so
you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he
was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers,
too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did
with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten
about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the
bullseye. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle walked over to
retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the
pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the
blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in
that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even
without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice.
He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled
a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in
his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You smoke too much," I
said, trying to coax him out a little.

[CatchrNdRy]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle walked over to retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.
bartender's arm
eat

[trisherina]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

waltzed, waltz

[dinzdale]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.
Kyle

[zefrank]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

3rd sentence (dart to cigarette)

[amanda]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.


pitcher, reached, glass

[dinzdale]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.


darts

[Stormyguy]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

the palace

[zefrank]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the jester's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You are too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.


many changes

[amanda]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into the jester's glass. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You are cheating too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.


knife, arm and much of the ending

[Stormyguy]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into the jester's glass. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "I kick ass," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You are cheating too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.

"Your turn"

[zefrank]

It all started at The Palace Hotel Restaurant. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was afraid to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into a woman's glass across the room. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the tab and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Chuck tallied up his drink total on the dessert menu. "I kick ass," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in Palace, Chuck had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You miss her don't you," I said, hoping to calm him a little.

[amanda]

It all started at the park. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too blinded by the sun to see what he was looking at. He had a juggling club clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was afraid to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the club fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the club left his fingers and landed onto a woman's head across the field. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the club with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the juggling torches and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of cigarellos he smoked. "I kick ass," he said, in that John Wayne voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the laughter in the Park, Chuck had a real annoying voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the juggling clubs to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the torch wick, fishing in his pants for a lighter with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[trisherina]

It all started at the park. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too blinded by the sun to see what he was looking at. He had a juggling club clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the club fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the club left his fingers and landed onto a woman's head across the field. "Not bad," I said, wincing a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the club with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the juggling torches and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of days left in their juvenile detention sentences. "I kick ass," he said, in that John Wayne voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the vitamin E he'd been using habitually, Chuck had a real annoying voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the juggling clubs to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the torch wick, fishing in his pants for a lighter with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[zefrank]

It was dark. The thing between us... He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention. He had a joint clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the world fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the joint left his fingers and landed onto his lips. "Not bad," I said, wincing a little. Chuck walked over with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the torch and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of days left in their juvenile world. "I kick ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the woman he'd been using habitually, Chuck had a real beautiful way. He didn't look at me when he passed the joint to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the wick, fishing in his pants for a pen with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.